Pictures of You
by combeferreroroche
Summary: "All Enjolras knew was that he had suddenly found himself smiling and that he didn't know what to gather from it."
1. Pictures of You

Okay so I've finished my first E/R fic! Yayyy! I feel so happy about this. Also, I really like writing poetic!Grantaire. It makes me feel warm and cozy c:

Pictures based on grantaireee . tumblr (dotcom) / 39718814067/tumblr_mg4yiv8Hif1rdo0ew the images shown there.

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It was needless to say Enjolras was tired.

He'd had a long, hellish week of lectures and the debate team. Five essays due at different times in the upcoming month and an overload of paperwork for student government. Whoever said University would be enjoyable was completely wrong.

Amidst the plethora of books and papers surrounding him, his phone rang. He pursed his pale pink lips and stopped his typing, deciding to check and tell off whomever was disturbing the madness of his current situation. He unlocked his glossy new smartphone, which he'd decided to splurge on not only because he was deserving of some sort of condolence for his hard work but also because it kept his hectic schedule at the palm of his hand, and scowled at the message.

First of all, it was an unknown number, which annoyed him greatly. Second of all, it was telling him to do something and Enjolras wasn't keen on being told what to do by strangers. He sighed and figured they had the wrong number, he opened the message and replied _"Who is this?"_

"_Check your email." _He received again a few minutes later. What a persistent person this was.

"_I don't even know who you are." _Enjolras replied angrily, letting out his frustration on his phone's touch screen.

"_Just check your email."_

Enjolras let out a snort, tossing his phone aside. Whoever it was, he was not in a mood to deal with them. It probably wasn't even for him anyway, he thought. Still, curiosity got the better of him. Begrudgingly, he decided to check his email, grumbling to himself as the page loaded. He saw he had one new message, pure coincidence right? He opened it and it read as follows:

_'You decided to check your email. :) Just thought I'd send you the pictures I've taken of you around campus. - R'_

"R?" He asked himself, staring blankly at the email. He saw there were a few pictures attached, most blurry, but all of him. He scrolled through them, his face red at the thought someone had been following and taking pictures of him. He stopped at the last two, polaroid scans with a vintage flare, and flushed. How had he not noticed someone was close enough to take these? The first was a picture of him in a cafe nearby his dorm, listening to a live poetry reading, he remembered that day clearly but not anyone remotely close to him. The second, and this one he would pay any amount of money to get off this person's hands, was one of those rare moments he let loose. Those rare moments when he was with Combeferre or Courfeyrac and he just let go, he actually acted...silly, dare he say it. He actually acted youthful. It was a picture of him sticking out his tongue to taste the first drops of snow of the year and as far as he knew, and he was sure to notice this when he'd done it, only Courfeyrac was there and they had just won a huge preliminary match with their debate team, resulting in his utter joy.

Whomever had done this had put a lot of time to editing these and he almost felt awed by it but he quickly remembered how wrong this was. Wrong that someone was following him around. Wrong that someone was taking pictures of him. All of it, wrong. It was a massive invasion of his privacy and quite frankly it _scared_ him. He quickly scrambled for his phone and sent the stranger a text demanding for an explanation as to why they were following him and just who in the hell they were.

"_I am the wind, I'm there but you don't notice. I look but you don't see. You've nothing to fear, those pictures will stay between you and me. You're far too precious to share."_

An angry blush spread across Enjolras' normally rosy cheeks. He felt a strong indignation towards this outrageous individual. Did he even know him at all?

And then, like the weight of the world falling on his broad shoulders, it hit him.

R. Capital R. Grand R. _Grantaire_.

It was that very peculiar man Jehan seemed to be acquainted with. The one he had been introduced to last month. The drunk photography major who didn't believe in anything. He was impossible and it irked him ever so much.

"_You...__**Why**__?" _It was all he wanted to know before getting officials involved in this. He could almost hear the man's haunting laugh, the laugh that had chimed through his head like obnoxious church bells that day when they met.

"_I...Like you."_ He replied after a while. Enjolras couldn't help but stare down at his phone hopelessly. He had never been one to think romantically of anything but his country. It was his first love after his mother. Therefore he had never experimented with his sexuality, figuring he was normal. So what was he to do now that a man was confessing his feelings for him?

"_Why?_" He asked again, feeling stupid.

"_You're wonderful. Every word that falls off your lips can be produced into symphonies."_

"_I have nothing to offer you. We are completely and utterly different."_

"_Opposites attract, Enjy."_

This man, he was incredibly infuriating but at the same time he made Enjolras feel something deep inside him. A warmth at the center of him which he had never felt before. Maybe it was just the start of an upset stomach due to this man's behavior. All Enjolras knew was that he had suddenly found himself smiling and that he didn't know what to gather from it.


	2. Among The Strangest Things

Among the strangest things in his life, which to be honest were quite few as he would like to keep them, someone following him around and taking pictures of him as if he were an idol of some sort was the strangest. Nevertheless, he wanted to get down to the bottom line with his idolizer and had cited him to a small coffee shop near campus. One he knew the other knew since he had taken pictures of him both outside and in the shop.

But he was late. Needless to say of one who had no regards towards principles and rules. Enjolras was getting tired of waiting and the battery on his laptop was dying. If he was left with nothing to do and the oaf wasn't there yet, he would leave, he thought to himself. But a part of him knew he wouldn't, that he was as curious to find out more about this man as he was proud to be French.

Finally, to Enjolras' dismay, a very sluggish Grantaire sauntered in. Enjolras glared at him as he approached, to which Grantaire returned a brilliant smile. He sat down in front of En jolras and stared, blatantly stared.

"A greeting at least would be nice." Enjolras scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Grantaire snickered and ran a hand through his dark curls.

"Hello, I suppose."

"Good morning." Enjolras said in an exasperated tone. But how could he teach manners to one who was incorrigible? Enjolras did not know him but he knew enough. He had spoken to Jehan and to Bahorel, who knew him. He had observed him before around campus and many a-times clicked his tongue at his primitive behavior. "First of all. How did you obtain my phone number?"

"Jehan." Grantaire responded casually. Enjolras was starting to reconcider who to give his information to now.

"How do you know Jehan? He is a quaint boy, not one to hang around the likes of yourself." To this Grantaire's face twisted into a hurt expression for a second before smiling sheepishly.

"Our fathers are acquainted. Naturally we are as well. Nice boy, really. But how do you know Bahorel? He told me you asked about me. Do I intruige you so much?" Enjolras flushed at the response. For both the reason that he was surprised Grantaire held a level of eloquence that went far beyond neanderthal-like grunting and that he was terribly flustered by his question.

"I...I simply wanted to inquire what you were like to know if I should invest in a security system."

"I would never harm you."

"A-Anyway...How did you obtain my school email address? Jehan doesn't have it, that's for sure. Only professors are meant to have it."

"Have you ever checked the university's address books? You'd be surprised by the things you find in there."

"You..." Enjolras' face pinched up in annoyance and indignation.

He was a bohemian. He was wild and obnoxious. He believed in nothing, yet he managed to leave Enjolras in a lack of words. Words had been the one thing, among others, that Enjolras had never lacked in his life. The mere thought of someone as infuriating as Grantaire leaving him without a single utterance confounded him to no end.

"You are impossible, sir." He said quietly, picking up the coffee he had forgotten for another sip of the now cold substance.


End file.
